


Rigging

by nubianamy



Series: Shipping Kurtofsky [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Dom/sub Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27430015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: Dave spots a flyer in the library at Baldwin-Wallace University for an unexpected club.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky
Series: Shipping Kurtofsky [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006734
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18
Collections: Kurtofsky Week - Ten Year Anniversary





	Rigging

**Author's Note:**

> For [Day 5 of Kurtofsky Week, 10th Anniversary Edition](https://karofsky.tumblr.com/post/630911758407745536/kurtofsky-week-the-10-year-anniversary-dates) (College). 
> 
> I had every intent of writing smut, but this is as close as I got. AU, Kurt doesn’t go to NYADA, Blaine is irrelevant.

Dave liked the way his boots sounded in the hallways of the Kleist Center. Something about the acoustics, maybe, or just the dim silence after his footfalls faded away. The hallways were always like that on Friday afternoon, lit by inadequate fluorescents, walls full of bulletin boards. It was as though college had never departed the era before online culture, when students had to find out about events from posters instead of posts.

Actual flyers still existed, of course, mostly on announcement boards at coffee shops, or occasionally plastered way above his line of sight in alleys. Dave had never really thought about what it must take to hang some of them up that high. Rappelling, or parkour; either way, it would be dangerous as shit.

On the way back to the dorm from his last class, Dave skateboarded west on Bagley toward the library to pick up a book. He didn’t have to work tonight, at least, but his creep of a supervisor had scheduled him for early on Saturday, _again._ Shelving books at the library was relaxing, but working with that prick Terry made Dave want to resume bullying as a hobby.

He picked up his skateboard and headed through to the main entrance to browse the new arrivals. College was a lot easier than Dave had expected it to be, and it left him a lot of time to read.

He wasn’t surprised to find one of those ubiquitous bulletin boards on the wall above the display of paperbacks. This one was covered with neatly organized club posters, so many that they overlapped one another. Dave could see the names of each club, sorted alphabetically. Some of them were not his speed, like debate club or Bible study, but others might be fun. Fencing. School newspaper. Illuminated manuscript.

Then, his browsing fingers flipped to one, and he paused, looked closer—and froze when he realized what it said.

_Kink+ is an educational group focused on promoting consent, safety, and equality among sexual minorities. We meet on campus once a month to discuss topics of interest, provide demonstrations, as well as hosting a weekly munch on Friday evenings for socializing. All genders and sexual orientations welcome._

_What the hell?_ A university kink support group? The poster even went so far as to provide a link to Fetlife. That was pretty edgy. Yeah, okay, Dave had created an account on that website shortly after he’d turned eighteen, but he still felt like he was breaking all kinds of rules every time he logged in.

He memorized the building and room number, then let the posters fall back into place, resettling themselves so that nothing could be seen except the names of the groups, marching in little diagonal rows. It looked so innocuous like that. As though a whole realm of subversive ideas couldn’t be contained in a simple four-letter word.

Dave grabbed his skateboard and headed out the front door. He’d forgotten to check out a book, but his thoughts were already a million miles away.

* * *

He made an effort to dress up a little for the munch. Not the kind of thing he’d wear to a lecture or anything, but a nice shirt, and the one pair of jeans that fit especially well. Other than that, he had no idea what to wear. It was entirely possible everybody was going to be in leather and latex, even though the invite had said _street clothes._

He shouldn’t have worried. The three people sitting in the reserved classroom looked like ordinary students. One of the girls stood up and invited him in, handing him a blank name tag. Hers read _Fiona,_ and underneath that, _notaprincess._

“Whatever name you want,” she said, “but some people like to share their profile name. And, you know, anything else, but keep it PG. We’re heading over to Cafe Ah Roma, and we try not to scare the locals.”

“Uh, I’m Dave.” He gave her a little wave. He took the marker she offered and carefully wrote _tiedinknots07_ on his name tag.

“First time?” said the other girl, whose tag read _Chase._

He nodded. “I’m a sophomore and I didn’t even know this club existed until today.”

“We go under the radar,” said the guy. Dave guessed, based on the amount of gray in his beard, he wasn’t in college. He gave him a friendly smile as he shook Dave’s hand. “Pete. I’m the faculty advisor. We’re the welcoming committee; most folks are already waiting for us at the cafe.”

Dave made small talk as the four of them walked across campus, listening more than he shared, but they all seemed nice enough. By the time they walked through the door, he felt a little less nervous.

“Kurt,” called Fiona, waving a hand.

Dave stopped so abruptly, Chase ran into him from behind.

“Um—” he said, trying not to panic, but it was too late. Kurt had spotted them, was rising to his feet. The expression on his face was hard to read, but whatever he was feeling, it definitely wasn’t good.

“We picked him up along the way,” Pete said, gesturing at Dave.

Kurt nodded slowly. The corners of his lips tightened, and Dave tried not to cringe.

“Hi, David,” he said, his tone mild. “Have a seat.”

“Oh, you know each other?” Chase said curiously.

“We went to high school together.” Dave eyed the table, where the only open seat was, of course, next to Kurt. He wasn’t wearing a name tag.

“Yeah.” Suddenly Kurt smiled, and Dave felt his shoulders drop, and he managed to breathe a little easier. “Feels like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dave echoed, smiling back.

Kurt spoke casually to all the others at the table, but his eyes kept returning to Dave. It was hard to stay focused on the introductions Pete was providing. Kurt looked more than two years older than he had the last time Dave had seen him, but just as perfectly put together. The scarf around his neck was gray, with the tail carefully arranged to the left. Dave wondered how much he should read into that.

“What are you studying, David?” Kurt asked, after they’d placed their order.

“Sports management,” he said, “with a minor in communications.”

Kurt broke into a surprised laugh. “Of course. I remember. You want to be a sports agent. I’m sorry, I still don’t really know what that is.”

“And you… music? Theater?”

“I haven’t declared yet.” He gestured airily. “Too many choices.”

“Well, hey, you were valedictorian. You can have whatever you want.”

Kurt directed his smile at the table. When he turned it on Dave, it made him feel a little faint. It was distinctly… _focused._

“Why, yes,” he said. “I can.”

For the rest of the evening, Dave managed to maintain two levels of awareness. One was on the conversation they were all having together, the perfectly nice people at the table, talking about ordinary things, school and work and what shows they were watching. The other was the space containing himself and Kurt, and the obscene amount of tension between them. Dave thought there was no way the others couldn’t feel it, but nobody mentioned it.

 _Or maybe I’m imagining it?_ he wondered, as Kurt and Fiona laughed together.

They all stayed long after they’d finished their food and drinks. Pete told him about the upcoming presentation on bootblacking, and said, “I hope you’ll come back sometime.”

He glanced tentatively at Kurt, then said, “Yeah, maybe.”

The real answer, _if Kurt doesn’t mind,_ was not a thing he felt like he could imagine saying out loud, for so many reasons. As much as he commanded a room with ease, Kurt wasn’t the leader of the club. He was just another guy, and Dave would do well to remember that.

It took him a while to walk back to his dorm. The night was chilly, but Dave didn’t feel cold. It was almost like he was wrapped in cotton batting. Everything felt a little muffled. Overlaying it all was the memory of Kurt’s expression in that moment, that focused smile that had kept him rooted to the spot, ready to do—whatever Kurt had wanted.

It wasn’t like he’d never jerked off to thoughts of Kurt Hummel before, but it had been years, and his fantasies had never been so specific and immediate. Dave felt a little extra guilty, like he should find a way to ask for permission to do that before he did it. But of course that wasn’t going to happen.

Before going to bed, he logged into Fetlife, which Dave had always thought needed a serious design overhaul. He hadn’t looked at his feed in months. There were some comments on things he’d written, and a few friend requests from people he didn’t know. He read their profiles, taking a moment to admire some of their more creative photos.

Then he paused, looking more carefully at the gray scarf around the neck of one guy’s profile picture. His heart stopped beating for a moment as he read the screen name: _BornThatWayBaby, 20M Dominant._ There was no question who that was.

After accepting his friend request, Dave wrote him a message. _I was wondering about the color and dress of your scarf._ _Is the hanky code still a thing?_

Kurt’s reply was immediate. _You want to find out?_

* * *

They texted back and forth all Saturday morning while Dave worked on his project for his sport management course. Kurt’s questionsand comments kept him mildly turned on for hours, but he ignored it as best as he could.

 _I thought I wasn’t your type,_ Dave said.

 _Well,_ Kurt said, _there’s my type, and there’s… my type. I think you fit the second one very well._

Then Kurt sent him a link. It was a kind of checklist, full of things Dave liked, and other things that made him wrinkle his nose, and still more things that made him shudder.

 _Fill out the whole thing,_ Kurt said. _Place each choice in one of four categories: yes please, if you want to, no thanks, and hell no._ _And be honest. I don’t want any surprises._

Dave managed to wait until he was done with his school project, the checklist looming in his imagination like a big, kinky carrot. He wondered if Kurt had ever filled out one of those checklists, and if he had, what things he might have labeled _yes please_. Whatever those things were, Dave wanted to do all of them.

Some of the things on it were unfamiliar enough he had to look them up. Most of it fell into the _if you want to_ category, but really, he had to admit some of them were more like _I’d be into it if you make me._

There was no question in Dave's mind that he would actually say _hell no_ to anything Kurt wanted, even though Kurt said he could. Dave had never had a safe word before, had never had an occasion to even think about needing one. All the ones he could imagine using would be too embarrassing to say to Kurt. But when he mentioned this, Kurt said, again, _you can just tell me no, any time, and I’ll stop,_ and Dave believed him.

After forty-five minutes and several pages, Dave was left wondering why completing a checklist was more of a turn-on than even the best porn he’d ever bothered to watch.

 _That was really hot,_ Dave admitted to Kurt, as he sent him a copy of the finished checklist.

Kurt’s response: _Just you wait._

* * *

Kurt told Dave he was going to wait for three days before texting him again.

 _It’s not because I’m avoiding you,_ Kurt assured him, _I just want to give your answers my full attention before deciding what’s next._

 _Whatever you say,_ Dave said.

That wasn’t exactly true, of course. Nothing had been negotiated between them. Kurt’s teasing banter felt more fun than intimidating. Regardless, Dave was willing to let him take the lead, and to trust that Kurt wouldn’t lose interest or wimp out before the good stuff happened.

“The good stuff,” which would eventually be defined by Kurt Hummel, was fully present in Dave’s waking life, especially now that his imagination had been fired by completing that checklist. Dave tried to keep his fantasies vague, at least while he was walking around campus or shelving books at the library or having conversations with other people, but it wasn’t easy. Everything was Kurt-colored. In his more private moments, Dave indulged in—well, in a lot of things, but especially in remembering every detail of Kurt’s perfect profile, his posture, his movements, his most disdainful expressions.

“What’s going on with you?” his roommate Eddie asked suspiciously. “You’re so spaced out. Have you been seeing somebody?”

“Kind of?” Dave had to say. “I hope. He’s… sort of busy right now.”

Kurt had told Dave he wasn’t seeing anybody. Dave didn’t think that was exactly what Kurt was offering him, either, but that was okay. He wasn’t about to complain about what Kurt _was_ offering. 

Right at the top of his _yes, please_ list, Dave had already mentally penciled in _Kurt Hummel making me wait for it._ Because Kurt telling him to wait not only implied Kurt wanted to do things with him, but that Kurt wanted them enough to think about them in detail. To give them his _full attention._

Dave closed his eyes, and reveled in the quivering in his belly, and waited for it.

* * *

Three days later, Kurt sent him a detailed message, one that began with _here’s what we’re going to do,_ and ended with _you may tell me yes, sir._ Dave read it three times, his breath coming quick and erratic. In the middle of the third time, he paused, locked the door, and jerked off to Kurt’s elaborate description of his scene. 

Then he paced the length of his room several times, wondering what kind of an idiot he was, thinking that this was going to turn out anything close to good. He knew Kurt was playing him. He _knew_ that, and yet, no matter which way he turned it, this way or that or upside down or whatever, he couldn’t find it in his heart to say no.

 _Yes, sir,_ he replied.

There were a couple of things Kurt told him he had to acquire before the scene would take place. One of them was a clear STI panel. Another was three twenty foot lengths of rope, preferably hemp, but both jute and nylon were acceptable. The third was a blindfold, but Kurt said that was optional.

 _Simply because I have plenty of my own scarves,_ he said, and Dave smiled.

Now that they were in the middle of this exchange, Dave felt willing to risk asking, _Would you mind if I came to Friday’s munch?_

 _I wouldn’t mind,_ said Kurt. _But I would prefer we keep this private for now._

Dave’s logical mind knew that request, like Kurt’s ego trip, was a red flag—and, simultaneously, he also knew that his reptilian mind was absolutely going to go along with it. Nobody needed to know what Kurt was planning to do to him but them.

He scheduled an appointment at the student health clinic to get tested for STIs, and spent a couple of hours researching rope vendors before placing an order. He also did his very best to finish all of his work long before Friday evening so he would have nothing looming.

It hadn’t occurred to Dave, until he was walking through the door of Cafe Ah Roma, how difficult it would be to be in the same room with him and not telegraph exactly what he was feeling. Not that he was precisely able to figure out those feelings himself. He tore his eyes away from Kurt, gave Fiona the best smile he could manage, and sat at the far end of the table.

Of course, somebody had to start talking about personal experiences.

“I bet we all had defining moments that gave us a clue about what we wanted,” Fiona said. She turned to Dave. “How about you? When did you figure it out?”

“In—the locker room,” Dave said.

He left it there. They could draw whatever conclusions they wanted. He knew Kurt was the only one who would know what he meant.

Kurt texted him right after he left the coffee shop. _You really didn’t know until that moment?_

 _About what I wanted from you?_ Dave asked. _I guess I probably did know something, but it hadn’t been clear until then. It wasn’t like your fault or anything._

_I was all prepared to take credit for corrupting you._

_Definitely not,_ Dave said. _I’m the one who kissed you, right?_

It still made him cringe to remember it, but even more to remember what a massive turn-on it had been to stand there and be bathed in Kurt’s wrath. He paused at the street corner, not to wait for the light, but to take a moment to close his eyes.

 _Do you think there’s something wrong with me?_ he asked Kurt.

 _That’s a complicated question,_ Kurt replied. _Why do you care what I think?_

Dave thought about that question a lot, all through the night and well into the next day, while he methodically shelved his cart of books.He tried not to think about the fact that Kurt hadn’t answered his question.

It took a couple of days for his STI panel to come back. Considering he hadn’t really done much with anybody, it wasn’t surprising that it came back negative for everything they could test. His rope came in the mail a couple of days later.

 _Hemp rope is softer than I thought it would be,_ Dave told Kurt.

_You will want to oil it eventually. Is there anything else you want to tell me?_

Dave swallowed. _I’m trying not to make this too big of a deal._

_That’s a tall order, considering our history._

_I guess I want to thank you,_ he typed slowly. _Maybe that should wait until afterward._

_I’ll tell you on Saturday how you can thank me._

He felt a surge of fear. _I might have to work on Saturday._

_Well, you’d better get started trying to switch shifts with somebody, because you’re going to be busy._

The next day, even before his first class, he rode his skateboard down to the library and climbed the stairs to the second floor staff room. Sure enough, he was scheduled for an 11-3 shift.

“Terry,” Dave said, his stomach churning, “is there any way I can switch with somebody else this Saturday?”

“Sorry,” Terry said, sounding not at all sorry. He didn’t even look at Dave. “You’re the only one I can count on to be here.”

“I have a prior commitment.”

“Well, you know you should have let me know last week.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He gritted his teeth. “There’s no way I can—?”

“No, Dave, there’s no way,” Terry snapped.

He steeled himself. “Then I quit.”

“For Christ’s sake—“

Dave turned around and walked away from Terry’s spluttering. He’d already made his move, and he didn’t need to listen to Terry’s inadequate apology.

 _I don’t have to work on Saturday,_ Dave told him. It was as close to a lie as he’d told Kurt so far, and it felt kind of terrible, but he figured it was equivalent to the lies Kurt was feeding him.

The location Kurt gave him was just west of town. Dave didn’t have a car, and he thought skateboarding there would just make him extra sweaty, which was definitely not what he was going for, so he called the campus taxi service and scheduled a pickup.

On Saturday morning, he put the rope and a change of clothes into his backpack, along with some cash and his ID. Feeling extra morbid, he wrote a note about where he was and left it under his pillow. He figured nobody would see it, unless something went horribly wrong. It was a little depressing that there was nobody he felt safe enough to tell about what he was doing.

 _This isn’t safe,_ he told himself, waiting for the taxi in front of the student union. _There isn’t anything about this whole fucking thing that’s safe._

Kurt lived in an apartment complex on the second floor. Dave could smell something inside when he opened the door, maybe incense or scented candles.

“Your place smells like you,” Dave said.

It was probably a dumb thing to say, but Kurt didn’t react. He beckoned Dave inside. He was wearing a black t-shirt and gray pants that conformed perfectly to his ass. Dave wondered if there was some rule about not staring at Kurt’s ass that he should know about, and handed Kurt the rope.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” Kurt asked.

Dave shook his head.

“There’s a glass of water on the counter in the bathroom for you, along with a towel. I want you to shower and meet me in the bedroom.” Kurt wasn’t letting him look away, and he wasn’t smiling either. “You don’t need any clothes. Say yes, sir.”

He had to try it twice before he could get the words out. His head was buzzing, and he could feel his limbs growing heavy as he stood there. When he took a breath and opened his mouth, Kurt reached out and put a finger to his lips with a chiding _shhh,_ and Dave felt himself slip away a little bit more.

Kurt’s bathroom was clean and fragrant, but more spartan than Dave had expected. He drank the water and showered as quickly as he could, the second time in an hour, and managed to avoid falling or making a big mess as he dried himself off. Finally, he opened the door, peering nervously into the hallway. He’d never felt comfortable being naked in someone else’s home.

Kurt was sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed. Dave couldn’t help but stare as he took off his shirt, and suppressed a whimper.

“Come here,” Kurt told him.

Dave tried not to attempt to cover himself up, leaving his arms dangling uselessly by his side. Kurt’s expression told him nothing. He gestured for Dave to turn around, which Dave did.

“Do you have any issues with mobility?” Kurt asked. “I’m going to touch your arm. Tell me when this feels uncomfortable, even a little bit.”

Kurt’s voice was firm, but his hands were gentle. Dave blinked at how good it felt, Kurt’s hands on his, moving him into different positions, murmuring under his breath as he worked, and eventually Dave just shook his head.

“All right.” Kurt encouraged him to turn and climb onto the bed. The sheets were even softer than Kurt’s touch. Dave let out a long, shaky sigh as he felt the rasp of the rope on his skin. “Let’s get started.”

It was hard to tell how long he knelt there, subject to Kurt’s ministrations. At some point, he tried to change position, but he couldn’t. He was bound where he was, across his shoulders and armsand chest, down to his knees and feet. It would have been both so hot and incredibly comforting if he hadn’t remembered what Kurt was actually doing.

Dave settled back, leaning into the support of the ropes. Kurt paused, just for a moment, then went on.

“Kurt?”

“Quiet,” Kurt said, his voice quivering.

Dave tried to crane his neck to catch Kurt’s eye, but Kurt firmly redirected his face back toward the wall.

“Are you okay?”

“Shut up.”

The catch in Kurt’s voice was enough to make Dave want to break free, just to stop whatever was causing him to sound like that. _It’s you,_ said the insidious voice inside his head. _You're causing it. It's all your fault._

He sighed, struggling in his bonds. “Look, it’s over, you don’t have to do this anymore, I _know_ you don’t really—”

Kurt smacked him, hard, on his upturned backside. Dave was so shocked that he he stopped talking. Then Kurt turned away with a noise of frustration.

Dave struggled again, but he wasn’t any more free than he had been a moment ago. Now he just felt worried about Kurt. But he didn’t call out, and remained where he was, because… because he said he would. The knots were solid. He didn’t have any reason to be afraid.

It really felt like no time at all before Kurt had recovered. He placed one hand in the center of Dave’s back, checking the ropes by sliding two fingers beneath them and tugging. 

“I’m not here to punish you,” Kurt said, his voice once again as smooth and even as polished obsidian. Even in the midst of uncertainty, Dave felt like he could skate away on that voice, forever.

“Why not?” Dave asked. He knew he was risking reprimand, but he thought it needed to be said. “I deserve it.”

“No. You apologized three years ago, and I accepted it then.” He added a second hand, running them in parallel from Dave’s waist to his shoulders. Dave quaked, trying not to buck his hips, but Kurt was helping him, supporting him with surprisingly strong arms and shoulders to roll over onto his back. “I’m not trying to shame you. That’s not my kink. Maybe it’s yours, I don’t know.”

“Not exactly?” He tried to lean into Kurt’s touch, but even in this new position, he could barely move. “I think I’m already kind of ashamed of how I look, and I don’t really think I need more of that.”

“No, you really don’t,” Kurt agreed.

Dave lay there, watching him. He had no idea what to say.

“I got over it,” he told Kurt. “Really, it’s—oh.”

Dave shifted pretty quickly from words to breathless noises, because Kurt was climbing into his lap, pushing him flat on the bed with both elbows on his shoulders, and his hand, god his hand was over Dave’s mouth and his knee was digging into the muscle of his quadricep, and if Kurt so much as touched his dick, he was going to fucking _lose it._

“It’s not your job to tell me if it’s okay or not,” Kurt said, his breath hot against Dave’s face. “It’s your job to take what’s coming to you. Nod once if you understand.”

Dave nodded one and a half times, and froze in the middle of the second one, hoping that maybe Kurt didn’t notice the extra enthusiastic half.

“That’s better.” Kurt’s bare chest grazed his nipples as he slid back down Dave’s the length of Dave’s body, caught in the ropes. “You said you know why I’m here. Do I want to stop?”

Dave shook his head, caught by Kurt’s cheek resting on his stomach. “N-no, don’t stop—“

“I didn’t ask that.” Kurt almost sounded amused. “Do _I_ want to stop?”

“I don’t—oh my god.” Amid the strands of sturdy hemp, through his tight jeans, Kurt ground his dick into the surface of Dave’s bound calves. Dave groaned. “Oh, my _god…”_

“No, I really don’t.” Kurt pressed wet kisses across his hip and paused, hovering over him, just shy of taking the head of his cock into his mouth. “But you can still beg.”

He scarcely let out a gasp, just one word, _“Please—“_ and Kurt was thrusting into the ropes tying him, riding him, and cried out as he came. Dave, trapped beneath him, just quivered each time Kurt’s face brushed against the underside of his cock. Finally, Kurt let his head drop, sighing, and was still.

“There's nothing wrong with you. In fact, there is not one thing about you, Dave, that I don’t want.”

“Oh,” Dave whispered, “oh—Kurt.”

“Shh.” His fingertips the traced droplet of moisture clinging to the head, along the shaft, all the way down beneath Dave’s thighs as he writhed. “I told you I'd tell you how you can thank me. You said you’d let me do what I wanted to do. And that’s… what I’m doing.”

Dave let his head fall back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, caught in Kurt Hummel’s web, and laughed.

“I’m all yours,” he said.

Dave sank into the sound of Kurt's echoing laugh. “You're welcome." 


End file.
